Reflection

When I think about writing about teaching, I always envision myself writing about coming to my classroom an hour early and sitting at my desk as I gather my thoughts for that day. This is not my reality. The bell for first block rings at 7:55 a.m. My reality is screeching into my parking spot around 7:51 a.m., grabbing my banana from my passenger seat, throwing my bag over my shoulder, and rushing to my room in hopes of getting there before my line of students. I am a good teacher; I'd be a better one if school started at 10 a.m.

Often, I start the day with crumbs on my shirt and dabs of moisturizer showing on my face. It's okay. My heart's in the right place.

When I think of these haphazard mornings, I often am reminded of one of my favorite Bible verses, "[God's mercies] are new every morning" (Lamentations 3:23). You see, God's mercies are new every morning; teenagers' mercies are not.

I wholeheartedly believe that more than my students wanting a teacher who arrives hours before the first bell and has copies neatly stacked and ready to go and never encounters a dilemma while using technology, they want a teacher who cares about them. They want to be taught by someone who listens, by someone who empathizes, and by someone who believes.

Typically, with teenagers, you get one shot. If you can't prove to them on Day One that they matter to you, you've lost them for good. Why should we expect any differently? Most of us are that way after all. Take my husband, for instance. He likes you until you give him a reason not to. After that, while he'll forgive you, liking you is forever out of his mindset.

As teachers, we prove ourselves on Day One. We walk into the classroom (or sprint to it, in my case), and we put our hearts on our sleeves, showing students that we teach because we care for them. If we can't do this, we lose many students for good.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not foolishly believing that all students get on board with us and love us unconditionally from that first day, but the truth of the matter is that if we lose them on that day, it's hard to ever get them back.

Because we teach students who really just do not have it in them to greet us with new mercies each morning, we have to be that person. If Johnny had a bad day yesterday and sent us home in tears, it's our job (or our calling) to come in the next day, ready to help him through whatever made him act that way.

Our mercies must be forever new.